The Way You Make Me Feel
by Galaxy-Defending-Hopeful
Summary: It probably wasn't the best idea to announce during an interview that he was obsessed with Danny. Flones, swearing, 2005. Written for kbeto, because I know he loves Flones!


**I was listening to 'The Way You Make Me Feel' by McFly (from their original Greatest Hits album) while writing this – if you listen to it while reading, I think it'll give you a much clearer picture of the plot of this story. Flones, 2005!verse.**

* * *

Although the joke that Danny had just made was funny, Tom found himself forcing the laugh out as the two sat under the bright lights of the interview studio. Dougie and Harry were both suffering from bad bouts of flu, and so were back in the bandhouse together, probably watching stupid films and being ridiculously unhygienic while Tom and Danny did the regular round of interviews.

"So, guys – do any of you have girlfriends right now?" the shiny, white-toothed interviewer smelt strongly of cheap perfume, and Tom tried to focus on that while he thought of a sensible answer.

"I got dumped last week by my girlfriend!" Danny exclaimed, giving a mock pout that made the interviewer laugh very falsely. "She was cheatin' on me, and then she dumped me!"

"What about you, Tom?"

A small digital clock behind the camera showed that there were another five minutes to the interview: Tom suppressed a yawn before absent mindedly replying,

"Well, there's someone that I fancy, but I don't think they know."

"Who?" the interviewer immediately asked, obviously pleased at the prospect of little effort on her own part. Tom sneaked a glance at Danny: the brunet was looking with interest at Tom, his recently-shaped eyebrows drawn in a picture of surprise. Taking a deep breath, Tom smiled.

"They're stunning – I mean seriously, they're the most attractive person I have ever seen. And God, they're so funny as well: I'm always in stitches when I'm around them. They caught my eye...three years ago, and I haven't been in interested in anyone else since. They're really talented – I'm pretty jealous of their guitar skills – and they can always make me feel better when I'm down. They're perfect."

"Ayyyye!" Danny cawed, which squeezed a small smile out of Tom.

"What's their name?"

Without thinking, Tom readily replied,

"Danny."

The cameras cut off dead, and silence enveloped itself palpably around the three of them, as well as the production team. Realisation hit Tom: he had answered truthfully, without censoring himself as much as he normally would have done. He had just announced that he liked Danny. Thank _God _it was pre-recorded.

* * *

Neither the blonde twenty year old nor the carefully-straightened haired nineteen year old said a single word in the back of their manager's car as they drove home – though, to be fair, there was little chance, as Fletch was raging at Tom for ruining the recording and damning the fact that they would have to squeeze a re-film in within the next 'already busy' week.

"Tom, I can't believe you'd be so thoughtless! I don't care what you do in your personal life, but you _don't announce it in an interview_."

Tom sucked in his breath before quietly replying, "Sorry, Fletch."

Beside him, he saw from the corner of his eye Danny rustle around a little, his cheeks both still very pink between his dark hair. He was paying very little attention to Fletch, as was evident from his hazy stare out of the window. Tom's own cheeks stained red as he stared furtively at Danny's side, absorbing the little details: the way his black jacket crumpled inwards at his waist due to Danny's skinny frame, the tightness of his jeans across his shapely legs, the way the bottom of his hair flicked out at the sides where the straighteners hadn't quite done their job properly...the tiny details made Tom want to reach out and touch Danny. Before he had a chance to do something else that was completely and utterly stupid, and make a pig's ear of the entire situation even further, the car drew to a shuddery halt.

"I'll see you two tomorrow, and hopefully the other two as well – let me know if they get better. And Tom?"

Tom forced himself to meet Fletch's gaze in the car mirror.

"Don't say anything stupid in any more interviews."

* * *

"Alright, you two?" Dougie's cheerful, if hoarse voice, came through to the two as soon as they entered the house. Danny was several paces in front of Tom, and neither was looking at the other, both lost deeply in their own thoughts. Tom quickly entered the living room before Danny could, leaving the decision of whether they would spend time together to the other man – Tom inwardly berated his own cowardice. Moments after himself, Danny did enter, the old spots of colour now flushing a deep crimson on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Harry immediately asked, his shrewd nature failing to surprise Tom as it was the millionth time that Harry had immediately spotted some supposedly well-hidden issue almost immediately.

"Nothing." Danny immediately replied, before sighing. "I'm goin' upstairs, I need to sit down for a bit."

With that, Danny escaped the room, leaving Harry with the mental image of a trail of smoke following him due to his haste.

"What's wrong?" Harry repeated, this time turning to Tom.

"I fucked up the interview." Tom simply replied, before rubbing his hand across his eyes. "God, I'm so stupid."

"What happened?" Dougie asked, before wriggling his eyebrows. "Did you tell them about our sex tape?"

Tom actually chuckled, in spite of himself. "You're not far off, mate. I...I need to go and think for a bit. I guess I'll see you two tomorrow."

For the second time in two minutes, a member of McFly escaped the living room with such speed they almost left a trail.

* * *

Tom jumped out of his skin when the knock came to his door at almost three in the morning: he knew for a fact that Dougie and Harry had fallen asleep entangled around each other downstairs, and surely Danny wasn't coming to talk to him at this time?

"Come in!" he cautiously invited, nibbling his lip. The door creaked open, and the angular figure of Danny entered the room. They shared a couple of seconds of eye contact before Tom awkwardly said,

"Do you want to sit down?"

Danny nodded, and sat at the end of Tom's bed, lacing his guitar-calloused fingers around each other.

"Did you mean it?" he suddenly asked, staring directly at Tom, his cheeks once more pinkening. "Did you...what ya said, was it real?"

"What happens if I say yes?" Tom sadly replied, wringing his own hands. "Do we carry on? Does the band still work? I mean, we've worked for two years as a band and three as a team of two while I've felt like this..."

Before Danny could say anything, a tear spilled out of one of Tom's eyes, quickly followed by a whole torrent. It seemed that that one tear had been holding back the rest, and now that it had escaped, others would follow swiftly. Tom felt something on his cheek, and opened the eyes that were still spilling salty droplets of water to see that Danny had reached out to brush them away, a stricken look on his own face.

"Tom...I like you too."

Tom's head snapped up fast, and he became blunderingly aware of all of his faults: the extra pounds of weight around his tummy, the crumbly dirt underneath his fingernails, the hole in his sock, the darkness of the room.

"Are you sure?" Tom whispered, feeling as if the entire room was crushing down around him. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Danny gave a smile, before his own watershed broke and tears began to pour. "You're not the only one who's liked someone for three years, mate."

"What now?" Tom's voice was quiet and nervous, as if it had never occurred to him that he would need to speak to Danny again.

"I'm tired." Danny gave a bone cracking yawn. "I'm tired and stressed and confused and I finally told you."

"Why don't we go to sleep?" Tom gave a tiny, tiny smile, before pushing back the duvet from beneath him. Within seconds Danny was lying beside him, the two of them so close that every movement caused soft touches between them. Tom pulled the duvet up softly before pushing an arm around Danny.

"Let's talk tomorrow." Tom suggested.

Danny was already asleep.

* * *

When Tom woke up, Danny was already awake, and had snuggled closer to him, his face resting softly in the crook of Tom's neck. Their arms were folded around each other, and their smells had combined to something that resembled freshly washed towels, toast and sweat.

"Danny..." Tom mumbled, as he broke one arm away from the tangle to wipe his eyes. Danny moved his face from Tom, staring up at him with his huge blue eyes.

"Dougie an' Harry came in a while ago – Fletch and Rashman were here, wantin' us all for interviews."

Alarmed, Tom wriggled up into a half-seated position, making Danny smile.

"They told them that we've caught their flu – they're mostly better now, so they went to do the interviews instead."

Immediately, Tom's shoulders slackened and his body slipped back down so that he was right beside the younger man.

"We should talk...make sure that we're both on the same page." Tom suggested after a while, his voice breaking the palpable but comfortable silence that had swept over the room.

"We both like each other." Danny simply said. "What more is there to discuss?"

Tom shifted slightly. "Well...are we...together?"

The awkward tone to Tom's voice broke any romantic mood that had been present: Danny laughed heartily at Tom, and soon Tom was laughing with him.

"I want to be." Danny eventually confirmed, one arm still wrapped around the blonde.

"So do I."

Then, for the first time, they kissed. It wasn't great, or passionate, or exciting, like as is often portrayed in movies. It was simply a sweet, mild, shared moment of peace and happiness, a tranquil second in the house that was never silent.


End file.
